Aftermath
by Cris
Summary: Kurt needs help after a disasterous accident involving Finn. To his surprise, Rachel is there to help him pick up the pieces. Takes place after "Blame it on the Alcohol."


_A/N: So I'm actually a little nervous about posting this one. It's one of the first Glee things I ever tried writing and I've hesitated to upload it because it's...well, weird. You can call it a crackfic if you want, because I guess it requires a certain amount of suspension of disbelief. I've tried to keep the characters as true to form as possible, though._

_Takes place directly after "Blame it on the Alcohol" if I remember correctly. Rated M for language, general squicky-ness, and non-sexual nudity. I could probably have gotten away with a T rating but the second chapter is definitely M if I ever decide to post it. All standard disclaimers apply._

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><p><strong>Aftermath<strong>

Kurt groaned and dug himself further under his bed. His head was no longer spinning, his stomach no longer roiling, but he certainly didn't want to see anybody. Especially anybody in his family. He didn't want to hear his dad's lecture or Finn's weak explanation about why he did what he did. He didn't even want Finn's mom, though he doubted she would come. Carole had done her best to keep her distance from Kurt, and he hoped it was fear of hurting Finn that had made her do so. Sometimes he wished they were closer as mother and son should be, but she seemed to regard Kurt as a shopping buddy and fashion consultant more than anything. In general he didn't mind, but there were times he wished that they could be something more.

But he didn't want her now - didn't want anybody. So when he heard the door to his room cautiously open, he pulled himself farther under the sleek, modern lines of his European bed and buried his head in the throw rug that sat half under and half next to it. The clean smell of rug piling was nice and familiar, but it didn't help him clear his head.

A warm hand touched his leg, wrapped loosely around his lower shin where his slacks had ridden up. It didn't pull, didn't try to tug his upper body out from its dark sanctuary, for which Kurt was extremely thankful. He didn't know who would come into his room, sit on his floor, and touch him like this, but anyone who was willing to just sit with him for a while was welcome to do so. Blaine was right - Kurt spent too much time alone. Not on purpose, necessarily. The other Dalton boys were polite enough at school, and Kurt knew he was lucky beyond belief to have had that option when he was being harassed at McKinley. But aside from the few other gay boys - and Blaine, of course - they weren't friendly. They disliked new blood, as it were. Kurt was on scholarship, and though the names of scholarship students were supposed to be confidential, of course everyone knew it. Kurt felt sure that some of his fellow classmates disliked him because of his financial situation, and some disliked him because he was yet another gay boy flocking to the all-boys school when, traditionally, that was not what single-sex education was for. It wasn't meant to be a place to hide. Kurt didn't begrudge them their prejudices; they were right.

But that didn't make it any easier to go home after school each day, knowing that if his phone rang it would be one of three options: Blaine, his father, or a girl from McKinley High's glee club.

Now the warm hand on his leg moved, rubbing soothingly. It felt nice - not too fast, just a slow trailing of fingers and palm across his skin. He didn't have much body hair, but the hand was careful not to pull or tug at the fine blond wisps that were there. It felt really good, actually. Touch wasn't foreign to Kurt, but it wasn't something he gave or received often. A hug with Mercedes, hesitant brush of fingertips when handing coffee to Blaine. That was it, really. His father wasn't a huggy man, and Carole's little shoulder pats were the kind of thing she'd exchange with one of her girlfriends. Kurt's head ached, but he was able to admit that the touch on his leg felt very good. Probably it was Mercedes, he guessed. Maybe Tina, but more likely Mercedes. He relaxed a little further, not headed toward sleep anytime soon but still pleasantly drifting under the dregs of the influence. What had Finn given him, anyway?

It hadn't been a pleasant ordeal, and that was the understatement of the century. Kurt snorted internally, too afraid of what the noise might do to his head to make a sound. He closed his eyes, fighting back the memories of puking all over his bathroom. Even remembering made his stomach churn unhappily. He wanted nothing more than to forget, to put this incident behind him. He didn't blame Finn. It had been a panicked reaction borne of...well, panic. Nothing hurtful had been meant. And Kurt still had a soft spot for the tall football player who had stood up for him and been his friend when none of the other guys at McKinley would. Finn didn't mean it. Okay, it wasn't exactly an accident, but still...

With a soft little squeeze, the warm touch left his leg. The spot of exposed skin where the unknown hand had been was suddenly cold, and Kurt missed the warmth of contact. Fingers found the hem of his trouser leg, tugged it gently down into place and smoothed the wrinkles out. Kurt smiled into the rug, closing his eyes. That was so sweet. He wanted the warm hand to come back, to touch him again. He didn't even care at this point who it was - it could be Puckerman, for all he cared. Not that he thought for one instant that it might be. The touch had been too soft for a guy like Finn or Puck. It just might be Blaine, but Kurt doubted it. This hand felt too soft even for his suave, polished crush. Too feminine. Besides, Blaine wouldn't have sat so quietly for so long, letting Kurt just be. Much as he adored him, Kurt understood that Blaine had a mouth almost as big as Rachel Berry's. The boy, no matter how mannered he managed to be, had a hard time keeping quiet. He would have wanted to know exactly what happened, and why, and what Kurt planned to do about it.

Quiet footsteps retreated from the bed and slid through the doorway to Kurt's private bathroom. He sucked in a breath to warn his comforter that the room was an absolute mess and she really, really did not want to go in there, but she was gone before he could say anything. He heard water running, and the faint, clean smell of a mild bleach solution wafted to him. Sighing, Kurt stayed where he was and didn't talk. Maybe it was Carole after all? He didn't know anyone else who'd be willing to clean up after him.

He drifted slowly, unable to do more than that as the dregs of his awful, terrible drugged experience flowed through him. No, Finn had not meant for this to happen. But the best intentions in the world didn't change how awful Kurt had felt. He still didn't feel so hot now, and he wasn't even sure how much time had passed. Enough that he was more or less lucid, but that didn't mean much. Kurt had absolutely no experience with any substances other than a little alcohol, and a few puffs of an uncle's cigar when a cousin had been born a few years ago. Now he swore off all substances that might possibly give him a rerun of this experience. He had absolutely no wish to relive it whatsoever.

The quiet feet walked in and out of the bathroom and Kurt's room several times, always moving slowly. Kurt turned his head and glimpsed a flash of black Converse once, which explained why the footsteps were so nicely quiet. Even on his hardwood floors and the tile of his bathroom Converse wouldn't make much noise. They were the all-around Wonder Shoe, Kurt thought. Fashionable enough to dress-down a suit and tie, even, and make it just a little punky and adorable.

After a while Kurt felt the touch of a cold breeze against his legs. He shivered a little and wanted to ask why someone had opened the window in the middle of winter, but his head was still a little swimmy and he wasn't at all sure his diaphragm and vocal cords wanted to cooperate with each other and produce sound. Also he wanted chapstick. Badly.

The soft hand returned to his leg, this time on the outside of his trousers. There was another gentle squeeze, and then he felt the fingers of a second hand picking at his shoelaces. In another time and place Kurt would be very confused. He even admitted to himself that he _should_ be confused. But he wasn't. He figured it was probably the drugs still percolating in his system, but he relaxed into the floor and let it happen.

The unknown person loosened the laces of his black Oxford carefully before pulling the shoe from his foot. He heard the gentle tap of the shoe being carefully set down by the foot of his bed before the process was repeated with his other foot. Slow fingers slid up his black dress sock to find the top, then drew it from his skin. He shivered as the cold draft of air from the open window found the sole of his foot.

"Sorry," a voice said, speaking for the first time. He was right: female. Low and quiet...soothing. He liked it immensely without placing it right away. "I don't know exactly what happened, but I didn't want to spray air freshener. The smell might make you sick again. I'll close the window in a minute, once everything is aired out. Bleach kills brain cells, you know."

Rachel? Rachel hadn't even been on his list of possibilities. Kurt wanted to see her to be sure, but he wasn't at all confident about his ability to turn and wiggle out from under his bed on his own.

"Come on," she said quietly, removing his other sock. "I mean, if you want to. A shower will get you warm again."

Her hands were amazingly soft and gentle. Kurt didn't know what to say. Though he and Rachel had called a truce and were officially friends now, he hadn't pegged her as the comforting type. Not at all. But the way she was talking to him now - low, quiet - and the way she had walked without making much noise at all...it was like she was trying not to make noise for his sake. That wasn't like the Rachel he knew at all. And sitting with him, a gentle hand on his leg, for however long she'd sat with him? Not talking, just sitting. If he wasn't so sure he knew that voice, he wouldn't believe it.

"Or would you rather stay there?" she asked, her hand still on his leg just above his anklebone. "I can bring you a blanket."

Did he really want to stay where he was, splayed half under his bed, on the cold hardwood floor? No, not really. But he wasn't sure he could move on his own. It had been a while since he tried, and last time had been...bad. His head still hurt where he'd whacked it against the metal beam of his bedframe, and he'd almost puked again though he was certain there was absolutely nothing left in his stomach.

He wet his lips, grimacing. His mouth felt dry and tacky and tasted awful. The muscles in his gut quivered in protest as he tightened them to speak. "Don't know if I can," he said, grimacing at how high and weak his voice sounded. It sounded like the rest of him felt - rubbery and loose, but not in a terribly happy way.

"I'll help you," Rachel said calmly, as if there was nothing out of the ordinary in this scenario. Kurt's immediate reaction was to ask scathingly whether she'd ever helped anyone besides herself in her life, but he bit the words back down. He didn't know if he could do scathing right now, with the way he felt, and Rachel didn't deserve it anyway. She'd been nothing but nice the entire time she'd been here - nicer than his family, even, who had stayed away.

Slowly he inched a hand out into the light. That didn't feel so bad. Well, his shoulders ached from lying in the same position for who knew how long, and he had to concentrate hard to keep moving, but other than that...

Rachel's fingers brushed his gently, just a whisper of a touch, and his hand reflexively moved toward hers. She clasped his hand palm to palm like a man would, thumbs intertwined, and her arm was steady and strong as he used her to help lever himself out from under the bed.

It was even colder out here, and Kurt shivered in his short sleeves. Blinking, he tried to sit up and steady himself. He dropped Rachel's hand, leaning forward and propping himself up on his arms. Rachel moved from his side - thankfully slowly to his swirling eyesight - and closed the window. Kurt watched her move around his room. She walked with a purposefulness that belied her slow movements. He wondered why she was here. Why Rachel, of all his friends? They were rivals first, friends second. They had been rivals for Finn's affection, rivals for top billing in McKinley's glee club...only now, with the space afforded them by Kurt switching schools, were they able to really begin to forge a friendship. Kurt knew all his old prejudices toward her were still there. He still thought of her as the loud, obnoxious girl who constantly stormed out of glee club when she didn't get her way, and was capable of throwing the most epic tantrums he'd ever seen. She was still an awful dresser who refused to take his fashion advice after his deception during a makeover last year, and she still had a ridiculously childish and self-centered way of looking at the world.

Or so he thought. Looking at her now as she carefully closed and locked his windows, being sure to slide the locks quietly so as not to make loud snicking sounds, he wasn't so sure. She was wearing a simple A-line black skirt that reached her knees and was actually very flattering on her. Paired with the black Converse and a plain white t-shirt, she seemed...normal. No knee socks in sight. Was it because this was a Saturday?

It was Saturday, right? Kurt had felt sure a moment ago but now he wasn't so clear anymore.

Rachel returned to the floor by the bed and sat behind him. Her hands were gentle as she pulled him carefully into a more upright sitting position, letting him lean back against her body. She was warm despite the chill in the room, and Kurt rested his head against her sharp collarbone, liking the softness of the rest of her. He could feel her heartbeat. It was...nice. Strange, but nice, to be so close to another human body. She smelled a little like bleach and like the cold snowy air outside. It was comforting.

She didn't push him to move any farther, for which Kurt was grateful. Just a little at a time. The lights were dim in his room, but they still hurt his eyes and he closed them, shifting a little against Rachel's supportive frame. She propped one arm on the floor, supporting them, and moved the other around him. It wasn't a hug exactly, but she lay her warm palm against his arm just as she'd touched his leg earlier and Kurt cracked a small smile.

"Finn's really sorry, you know," she said quietly. "I have no idea what he did, but he's sorry."

Kurt licked his lips again, hoping she couldn't smell the vomit on his breath. But, then, with the smell of bleach he'd scented earlier, it seemed like she'd maybe cleaned up the mess in the bathroom. Why on earth would Rachel Berry do that for him? He didn't know. "Did he call you?" he asked. The four words were easier than the last few he'd spoken. Maybe the awful feeling of the drugs was passing.

"He did." Rachel ran her hand slowly up to his elbow, then back down his forearm. She couldn't reach his wrist or his hand, but she kept her palm against his skin and he was glad of the warmth. A hot shower sounded divine, but he wasn't at all sure he could stand. "He was freaking out, said you were really sick and it was somehow his fault."

"Strange that he called you."

"Is it?" There was a soft touch in Kurt's hair - she rubbed her chin against him almost playfully. "He's never been close to Tina or Mercedes. Puck and Quinn don't really like you, and I doubt he knows Blaine's number. No offense to Artie, but how much help could he really be? Or Brittany?" She snorted lightly, warm air brushing his neck. "Would you rather he called Santana?"

"No, thanks." Kurt grimaced. "Point taken. You're the link between us in glee club, aren't you?"

She shifted behind him, and Kurt hoped he wasn't hurting her. He felt really comfortable right about now, though he was still cold. "I know a lot of them don't like me," she said quietly. "I'm not as stupid as they think I am."

"Nobody thinks you're stupid, Rachel." Kurt sighed. Here it came - the Rachel Berry Pity Party.

"Well, oblivious, then. I'm not." She paused, and her voice gentled again. "I really do try to take care of my friends. You mean a lot to me, Kurt."

That was it - really? _That_ was the extent of the whining? It wasn't whining at all! Kurt shook his head internally. Would wonders never cease? "We're friends, then?" he said, adjusting his head. He wanted to see her face, but at this angle it was impossible.

"Definitely." She smiled; he could hear it in her voice. "How about that shower?"

He sighed. "Sounds great, but I don't think I can make it that far."

"I'll help you."

The words were simple and frank. They meant nothing more than what she said - no hidden agenda that Kurt could find. He wanted to be suspicious, but his foggy brain wouldn't let him.

"How do we do this?"

She moved slowly, ducking her head under his arm and holding him upright with a firm grip around his back. "Good thing you're small," she said, rising slowly to her feet, Kurt following as she took a portion of his weight. "I could never do this with Finn or Puck."

_Or Jesse?_ The name hung unspoken between them. There was a tacit agreement between all McKinley glee clubbers not to mention him, with or without Rachel's presence, and though Kurt was no longer part of McKinley High he wasn't about to break ranks over that duplicitous spy.

"One benefit, I guess," he said instead. His size really didn't bother him, generally. Blaine was small, too. And Rachel's words had not been unkind. It was only when Kurt felt he was disappointing his father that he wished he were bigger - more normal. He wondered what his dad was doing right now. Was he downstairs, watching TV? Was he out with Carole? Who had let Rachel in? Finn? No one in his family had come to see him since the disastrous moment Finn panicked and everything went to hell. Were they at all worried?

"How are you doing?" Rachel asked, her free arm splayed out at her side for balance. "If you're going to puke, please turn your head. Brittany was enough." She shuddered.

"Not going to puke," Kurt assured her. Standing up had actually done wonders for his stomach, though it brought on an acute case of vertigo. He leaned on her, hoping it wouldn't unbalance them as he waited for the dizziness to pass.

Rachel didn't push him to move right away, for which he was grateful. He could feel her arm firm around his waist and he leaned heavily against her. She took his weight calmly, planting her feet and holding them upright. It didn't completely surprise Kurt that she was stronger than she looked. She made it a point to assure everyone that taking care of their bodies was as important as caring for their voices. She wasn't buff like Lauren or even built like the cheerleaders, but he was pretty sure she worked out. Why did girls have such a bad rep for being soft and weak, anyway? She was soft, but definitely not weak. Kurt doubted he'd be able to stand there and hold up someone slightly bigger than him so steadily. When he told her so, she chuckled lowly.

"Girls have a lower center of gravity," she said, a smirk in her voice. She took his free hand in hers. "Yours is here." She touched his hand to his upper chest, near his shoulder. "Mine is here." Reaching slowly, she pressed his hand against her lower abdomen, between her hipbones.

It wasn't an uncomfortable touch, and Kurt left his hand there for a moment wonderingly. He'd made out with Brittany several times while pretending to be straight to appease his father, but never had he touched a girl in that spot, or in quite this way. With Brittany he'd always kept his hands as much to himself as possible, nervous that he would do something wrong and she would instantly know he was really still gay. But Rachel was calm, letting him keep his hand against the waistline of her skirt, and he heard an amused little chuckle from her as he rubbed his thumb against her belly button.

"I've never touched a girl there before," he said quietly. "I've never touched _anyone_ there before."

"I don't mind." She rubbed the back of his hand. "My theory is that we're all pretty much the same, anyway."

"Since when?"

"Since the 'Run Joey Run' debacle." She shook her head, and he could hear the embarrassed smile in her voice. "I was an idiot, but it made me think."

"Learning experience, huh?" Kurt rubbed his thumb over the stretchy cotton fabric again. She was a contradiction of soft and firm here, her muscles clenched with the exertion of keeping them both upright. He wondered if a guy would feel the same way. She had...organs...under there that guys didn't have. But weren't skin and muscle essentially the same, gender to gender? She was kind of right, in a way.

"You could say that." She squeezed his fingers as they rested against her abdomen, then dropped her hand. "Ready to try walking?"

"Just don't drop me."

"I won't."

There was a calm, matter-of-fact kind of promise in her voice, and Kurt believed her. He shuffled forward a slow step, his leg muscles quivering almost as much as the rest of him. She stayed next to him but let him lead, moving just as slowly as he did. "You keep pace well," he managed to say.

"Dance practice. A girl's got to get used to following sometimes."

Kurt grinned through the haze of his swirling head. He bet that was difficult for her.

They reached the bathroom door, which was too narrow for both of them to walk through side by side. Kurt paused, wondering how they were going to do this.

"Want a piggyback?" Rachel teased gently.

"No, thanks." He grimaced. Rachel helping him like this wasn't embarrassing, but that might just push him over the edge into mortification. "Maybe if we just..." He shifted awkwardly toward her, turning to face her for the first time. She slid her free arm around him, propping him up solidly, as he took hold of her shoulder. They were almost dancing in this position. "You back and I'll follow?"

She nodded and turned her back to the doorway, shifting them slightly to the side. "Tell me if I need to slow down," she said, and took a careful step backward through the doorway.

They made it into the bathroom, still moving slowly and awkwardly. Kurt let her lower him on the closed lid of the toilet, exhaling deeply. His bathroom was sparklingly clean, every trace of his earlier spewing gone. Rachel calmly opened the glass door to his large shower and turned on the water. Steam billowed up and Kurt felt a delicious shiver creep up his spine at the thought of warm water. He leaned on the sink next to him and reached for mouthwash. He'd brush his teeth later, but he wasn't waiting to get that awful taste out of his mouth.

Rachel chuckled and offered him a water bottle after he gargled and spat. "Drink slowly," she said, pressing her fingertips against his smooth cheek. "Don't puke again and ruin all my hard work. I'll be right back."

Kurt had no intention of vomiting again, and he sipped the cool water slowly while the bathroom heated. Rachel didn't bother to turn the fan on, for which he was grateful. The steam felt good, almost as if it were clearing cobwebs from his head with each breath.

Rachel returned with a small armload of fabric. Kurt eyed her curiously. She rolled her eyes. "Look," she said, "you can't stand in that shower by yourself, even propped against the wall. Let's be honest here. But I'm not climbing in there with you naked, not even if you were the gayest man in the history of gay-dom."

Kurt swallowed, looking at her apprehensively. She was telling the truth about his ability to stand upright on his own, let alone coordinate the use of soap and shampoo. But what was she thinking, climbing into a shower with him? "Isn't that the kind of thing for - I don't know - family to do?" he asked hesitantly.

"Finn isn't showering with you no matter how bad he feels about what happened," she said matter-of-factly. "And when was the last time your dad saw you in your underwear?"

Third grade, Kurt thought. His dad had walked in on him getting dressed, abruptly apologized, and backed out of the room. "Point taken."

"So close your eyes for a minute and let me get ready."

Kurt hastily complied, though the dizziness was worse when he didn't have visual references. He held the side of the sink and said nothing. There was no reason to upset Rachel. She was helping him when his family wouldn't, and he was more grateful than he could express. She was right, too. He wasn't able to do this on his own right now. He needed to be able to lean on someone.

"Okay," she said, "you can open your eyes now."

Kurt did, and he had to laugh. She had stolen one of Finn's undershirts and a pair of his boxers, and it was all so big on her that it looked utterly ridiculous. Her clothes were folded neatly in a pile on the counter and she'd pulled her hair back into a ponytail low at the nape of her neck.

"Laugh now, funny boy," she said, taking his humor in stride. "I'm about to see you in your underwear."

Kurt stopped laughing. He knew that was where this was heading, but to hear her say it out loud was entirely different. He swallowed, a little unsure. This was Rachel, he had to tell himself. _Rachel_. He had no feelings for her whatsoever. She was a friend helping him - nothing more. It didn't make him any less nervous as she put her hands on the hem of his shirt and carefully pulled up. She eased it over his head, the gentle, careful touch from earlier returning to her hands. Kurt winced, sure he had made a mess on his shirt. He hated that she'd seen this weakness in him, though he didn't know why it mattered.

No, he did know. Because she was still a rival, even though she was also a friend. Rivals didn't show each other weakness.

He'd also never been nearly naked around someone his own age before. In the locker rooms at school he'd always changed in a stall, never out in the open. Now he was alone with one other person in his bathroom, and she was in his stepbrother's underwear, and he was shirtless. Sure she was the wrong sex for him to be attracted to, but still...

Rachel touched his shoulder softly and Kurt raised his head, meeting her eyes. They were dark and gentle - like Blaine's eyes almost, he thought. "It's okay, Kurt," she said quietly. "I just want to help you."

He knew that. Looking at her, he knew that. She wasn't going to hold this weakness against him - wouldn't ever bring it up again if he didn't first. Her eyes promised him that, and the touch of a commiserating smile on her full lips made him realize how much it meant to have a friend willing to do that for him. Not the cleaning, not the physical or emotional support, but the willingness to do all of it and then let it slide, never to be talked about again. A secret. Whatever happened here today would remain private, between the two of them. Rachel Berry normally had a big mouth, but Kurt believed wholeheartedly that she would back him on this and not breathe a word of it to anyone.

In that moment, he loved her. Not the desperate way he ached for Blaine, but comfortably. A friend, a true friend.

He fumbled his belt undone, and Rachel kept her arms near him in case he tipped as he struggled out of his trousers. The tight blue boxer-briefs he was wearing weren't ideal for shared showering, but there was nothing to be done about it now. He let Rachel pull his slacks off, from where they'd gotten entangled with his ankles. She set them aside, near her own clothes, and paused. "Towels?"

"Linen closet, in the hall."

And she walked boldly out into the hallway dressed in Finn's too-big underwear, as if there were nothing wrong with it. Kurt shook his head inwardly. That girl had some cojones.

She was back with a full stack of fresh towels, and she grinned at Kurt as she shut the door behind her. "What can I say?" she said, shrugging. "I like to be prepared."

Rachel put the towels next to the sink and then looked carefully at Kurt. "You ready?"

"As I'll ever be." Kurt let her kneel next to him, sliding up under his arm again. It was the same as last time, and yet intensely different, too. He was wearing one small piece of clothing, and she was in essentially a wifebeater and Finn's plaid boxers that were about to slide off her narrow hips at any minute. Skin touched skin, warm and damp from the shower steam. Kurt shuddered as he gained footing on the slippery tile floor. Never had he been so close to anyone, boy or girl. Never had he felt his bare skin touch anything in quite so intimate a way. He swallowed hard and shifted over to the shower, eager for the water. If nothing else, he hoped it would help mitigate the strange, intense sensation of being so close to another person.

Rachel used her free arm to slide the glass door aside, and they stepped in. Kurt had never been more grateful for his walk-in shower; there was no bathtub rim for him to try to get over. Rachel apparently didn't feel the same way. She closed the door awkwardly behind them, steam instantly fogging their eyes. "You know," she said, "if you had a tub, this would have been a whole lot easier. I could've filled it up, helped you in, and called it good."

"Combination shower/tubs are hopelessly outdated," Kurt managed to say. She moved him into the spray, and hot water sluiced over him. It felt wonderful. He dropped his head, letting the water soak his hair and dribble down his neck.

"I'd settle for outdated and practical right about now." Rachel rubbed her nose against his wet hair, and Kurt knew she wasn't really grumpy. "Is soap going to upset your stomach?"

"I don't think so." He hesitated as she squirted a good amount of blue body wash onto his natural sea sponge. "How come you haven't asked me what happened?"

She lathered the sponge in her hands before shifting her body over and smoothing it across his shoulders. "I figure you'll tell me when you're ready, if you want to."

"That's...really mature, Rachel."

"I've done a lot of growing up lately." She tried to slide the sponge down his back, but they both slid and stumbled on the shower floor as their balance was thrown off. She dropped the sponge and caught Kurt before he could fall, and he gripped her back tightly. "Shit!" she hissed, and she twisted her hips oddly against his. "Shit, shit, shit!"

Kurt wasn't sure he'd heard Rachel Berry swear that much, ever. He pulled his head away from her shoulder and glanced at her curiously. Her face was red - really red - and her eyes were squeezed shut. "What's wrong?" he asked hesitantly.

She sighed. "There goes my goal of not being embarrassed today. Look, can I sit you down for a minute?"

"Please," Kurt sighed. His arms were starting to ache from propping himself up against her, and he could sit under the shower and get just as clean as standing. He kept the shower floor reasonably clean, even if it had escaped Rachel's earlier ministrations.

Rachel helped him maneuver to the side of the shower, where he could lean against the tiled wall. He opened his eyes, and saw what the problem was.

Heavy and sodden with water, Finn's too-big boxers had slipped. They were hanging low on her thighs, and the only reason they weren't puddled around her ankles was because she'd clutched her knees together, keeping them up. Kurt's mind blanked. Sitting, he was in the perfect position to ogle. Sure, he'd sat through several years' worth of sex ed, and he'd seen the crude drawings of women's private parts all over the boy's bathrooms and locker room at McKinley. But that wasn't the same as having it right there in front of him, in the flesh. He knew it was rude to stare, but he couldn't help himself. Rachel looked so different from him. She had a small, neat patch of dark curls above what looked like a pair of soft vertical lips, but other than that, she was bare. Was that normal, he wondered, or did she shave or wax to achieve that sort of appearance? Did guys do that, too? Should he? Why didn't he know the answers to these questions?

Rachel swore again and yanked the saturated boxer shorts back up on her hips. She pulled the elastic out of her hair and wadded up one side of the waistband, wrapping her hair tie around it to keep the material up. "Sorry," she groaned, her face still red. "I really, really didn't mean for that to happen."

Kurt wondered if he should apologize for staring, but he didn't know whether Rachel realized or not, and he certainly wasn't going to enlighten her if it wasn't necessary. He took a deep breath. "I guess we both have things to be embarrassed about today."

"Don't be embarrassed about getting sick and needing help," she said, kneeling next to him and retrieving the sponge. She rubbed his shoulder with it lightly, then ran it down his arm. "That's what friends are for, right?"

"Right." Kurt took the sponge when she offered it to him, grateful that she wasn't going to insist on actually washing all of him. He could reach just about everything except his back, and sitting and leaning against the wall, he was more or less secure.

Rachel adjusted the angle of the shower nozzle and then sat next to him. "Have you ever seen...a girl...before?" she asked hesitantly.

"No..." Kurt busied himself with the sponge, carefully not looking at her. He thought his face might be as red as hers now.

"I've never been that...naked...in front of anyone before, either." She sighed, then giggled. "I guess the cat's out of the bag, huh?"

Kurt stared as she stretched out on the floor of the shower, one hand under her head. Why wasn't she more upset about this? Sure, it had been a complete accident, but still... The fog in his brain wouldn't let him concentrate. He suddenly giggled, too. "Cat..." he said, not careful how he opened his mouth, and he coughed a little, spitting out water from the shower. "Pussy."

Rachel snorted and reached out, snapping the elastic waist of his underwear. "God, it's sad when even the gay guys make bad pussy jokes," she said. "Aren't you supposed to be more suave than the normal cavemen your age?"

"Why?" Kurt asked. Suddenly this all seemed inordinately funny. "I'm not trying to get into any girl's pants."

She snapped his waistband again, giggling. "Crude."

"Wait." Kurt frowned. Through the fog in his brain, he was trying to remember something. "Didn't you and - " He broke off quickly, thankfully remembering not to say that name out loud.

"No," she sighed, draping a wet arm over her eyes. "We were going to, but I couldn't go through with it. It just didn't...feel right, you know?"

Kurt didn't know, but he didn't say anything either.

"Like...I don't know. He said I deserved epic romance - his words, not mine. And that would have been great, except it was like he was so intent on the goal that the rest of it didn't even matter. It made me too nervous to even go through with it."

Kurt lay back with her, letting the shower wash over both of them. The tile was cool against his back, but Rachel's arm was warm pressed against his. He closed his eyes against the wet spray, thinking. He'd never been even as close as Rachel was to having sex - never had the opportunity. There were three guys who would gladly have taken her virginity at some point in the last year or so, and yet she'd refused all of them. He didn't know if he'd be so discerning, given the opportunity. He was too curious to know what it felt like - not just the act of sex, either, but all of it. The touch of another human body against his. Kisses - he didn't count Karofsky's terrifying attack on his mouth. Just...all of it. "What would you have liked him to do?" he asked Rachel curiously. "What would have changed your mind?"

"I don't really know," she admitted. "Just...something different. Not so goal-oriented. Not like he was taking something away from me, you know?"

Kurt thought he understood that one. But then, who really knew? This had turned out to be a crazy, unbelievable day. If someone had told him yesterday that he'd end up lying on the floor of his shower with Rachel Berry of all people, in their underwear, he would have laughed.

"Come on," Rachel said after a few minutes. "I think you're as clean as you're getting for now."

"But I didn't shampoo or condition," Kurt protested.

"Well, you can't do that lying down anyway." Rachel slid her hands under his shoulders and propped him up against her again. She grabbed the bottle of shampoo she'd put on the floor earlier and poured a handful.

"You pour it in your hand, too," Kurt said, smiling.

"Yes?" She rubbed the goo into his hair, her hands efficient but still gentle. Her short nails scratched against his scalp, sending little tingles down Kurt's back. That felt amazingly good.

"I always thought everyone else just dumped it right from the bottle on their heads."

Rachel chuckled. "You've been showering with too many boys, my gay friend. Girls measure first. How else to know how much is too much?"

"Trial and error?"

"Please." She snorted. "You open a bottle of shampoo the same day Finn does, and I'll guarantee you he runs out first despite the fact that you're ten times prissier and have twice as much hair."

"Touche."

"Did you know that word means 'to touch'?" Rachel asked, giving his scalp a last gentle scratch before she slid him into the direct spray of the shower. "I didn't know that until just a few days ago when we watched a movie over at Sam's place."

"It makes sense," Kurt said, letting Rachel comb her fingers through his hair, making sure to get all the soap out. It felt surprisingly good to have another person's hands in his hair, on his scalp. "That feels good," he told her, and Rachel laughed again.

"I know," she said. "Haven't you ever had your hair washed at the salon?"

"And let some imbecile touch these locks? I'm offended."

"Touche." Rachel mimicked his tone from earlier. "How are you feeling now?"

"Better, I think." Kurt grimaced at his saturated blue underwear. "Soggy."

"If you're feeling better, then you can take care of that on your own." Rachel groaned as she pulled herself to her feet. "I'll help you out of the shower, though."

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it." She turned the water off and stood in front of him, reaching her arms down and clasping her hands near his elbows. Kurt pushed himself off the floor of the shower, holding her arms tightly as he levered himself to his feet. His head still ached, but the dizziness was wearing off. "Do you think you can lean against the wall and hold yourself up?" Rachel asked cautiously.

"Willing to try," Kurt said, and he slowly transferred his weight from Rachel's arms to his own feet, leaning carefully against the tiled wall. Rachel moved her arms slowly away from him, spotting him for a moment before stepping away. Kurt wobbled a little but remained upright, and he nodded when she raised a questioning eyebrow. Looking reassured, she left the shower and came back with a towel, wrapping it around him.

"Feel like trying to walk?"

"Are you spotting me?"

"Don't worry," she said with a soft smile. "I'm not going anywhere."

She stood next to him, one hand under his elbow as he stepped away from the wall. His head whirled and his knees shook, but he was walking with only minimal assistance. She let him shuffle over to the toilet and helped him sit again. His underwear made an unpleasant squelching noise, and he grimaced.

"Let me find you something dry," she said, wrinkling her nose. "Don't get naked yet, please."

"No problem." Kurt watched her leave; she considerately closed the door behind her again, keeping the steam and warmth in the bathroom and the cold air out. He heard little muffled banging sounds as she presumably rummaged through his closet and dresser drawers. He really didn't care what she pulled out for him at this point; all he wanted to do was swallow a handful of Tylenol and sleep.

She came back with a pair of Kurt's own boxers and a soft t-shirt that he was perfectly happy to sleep in. He had real pajamas but didn't care at this point whether he slept in them or not.

"You okay to change on your own?" she asked.

"I'll muddle through," he assured her. "You're allowed to come check on me if I'm not out in ten minutes, or if you hear a crash."

"Deal." Rachel tossed him a smile, grabbed two towels and her pile of clothes, and slid into his bedroom.

Kurt had to smile back, even through the pounding in his skull. She was really a cute girl when she wasn't being impossible, and he was more grateful than he could say for the soft, gentle way she'd treated him all day. It was more than he ever expected from anyone, let alone her.

On any other day, he figured he'd be wondering when exactly Rachel would leave and how to get rid of her. But this wasn't any other day, and Kurt was surprised to find that he was really enjoying her company. They talked easily, almost like...like friends. Real friends. He'd admitted to things he'd never told another person, and he didn't know whether it was the drugs still in his system or just the strangeness of the whole situation, but he was really feeling at peace with her. He wasn't at all sure what time it was or how long she'd been here, but he wanted her to stay. She was - dare he say it - comforting.

Kurt struggled out of his boxer-briefs, the saturated fabric sticking to his skin and not wanting to move. He dried himself off carefully, dressed again, and then brushed his teeth vigorously for several minutes. The mouthwash earlier had helped, but there was nothing like the feel of a toothbrush.

A hesitant knock on the bathroom door made Kurt look up, and he said, "Yeah?"

Rachel opened the door a crack and peered through. "It's been ten minutes," she said. "Fifteen, actually. You doing okay?"

"Fine. Just tired." Kurt used the counter to lever himself to his feet.

"Bed for you then," she said calmly. "Come on, I made some dinner."

"In fifteen minutes?" Kurt walked cautiously across the damp bathroom floor, aware of her eyes watching him in case he fell. He felt steady enough now, just weak. She pushed open the door all the way and fell in step beside him as he shuffled to his bed and sank gratefully down into the mattress.

"I didn't say it was gourmet." She grinned and set a tray on the bed. There were mugs of chicken noodle soup and a plate of grilled cheese sandwiches. "I was going to make a can of tomato, but the acid isn't good for an upset stomach."

"And dairy is?" Kurt asked with a smile.

Rachel shrugged. "It's never bothered me. If you want, I can get you some peanut butter instead."

"No, this is fine." Kurt leaned against his headboard and picked up half a sandwich. The cheese was still hot and melty, and he bit into it with a smile. "I'm surprised you found real cheese in the house. I don't let Carole buy much of it. Not after my dad's heart attack."

"I brought it over, actually," Rachel said, stirring soup with a spoon. "Didn't know what you might have in your kitchen, and you know I like to be prepared."

"What did Finn tell you exactly?"

Rachel sat on the end of the high bed, pulling herself up. She was dressed in her normal clothes again, except that she was barefoot. Her red-painted toenails were bright in the dim lighting of his room, and Kurt watched them as she swung her legs idly. "He was freaking out when he called," she said around a mouthful of sandwich. "Said it had been a complete accident, that he was so sorry it happened but he'd just panicked. I didn't understand what he was talking about, and he didn't want to be talked down. I eventually got him to say that you were sick, and he seemed to think it was somehow his fault. He wouldn't say any more, so I sent him to Quinn's house and came over here to check on you."

"You sent him to Quinn?"

Rachel shrugged. "He didn't want me to comfort him, so what else could I do? I may be dense sometimes, but there's a point where you can't ignore the truth anymore. He loves her, and while I think he loved me too, in his way, it isn't the same."

"That takes some guts to admit." Kurt took small bites, chewing and swallowing carefully, but his stomach was feeling a lot better now.

"How's the head?"

He shrugged. "It hurts."

"Do you want some Tylenol? Or would that not be good right now? I don't really know what happened to you."

"There's some in the top drawer over there," Kurt said, pointing to his desk.

She slid willingly off the bed, heading to the desk to get his meds. Kurt liked that she didn't seem to mind helping him when he was sick, though he would never have expected it of her. She popped the lid on the child-safe bottle and poured a handful of capsules into her palm. "Take as many as you want," she said. "I won't tell."

Kurt laughed a little and plucked four capsules from her hand. His head hurt so badly that he was tempted to take more, but he didn't want to make himself sick again.

"Jesse said Vocal Adrenaline took so much ibuprofen, they started calling it Vitamin I. It was part of their daily routine." She shuddered.

"You still love him." Kurt swallowed his last pill as he watched her closely. It hadn't been a question - the way she said his name told him enough.

Rachel shifted uncomfortably and returned to the bed, refusing to meet Kurt's eyes. "It's stupid," she said, playing with her spoon. "I know how pathetic it is, so spare me your speeches."

"I wasn't going to scold." Kurt put a hand gently on her wrist, stilling her nervous movements. "You got played, and that sucks. I get it."

"Yeah." She stared at the opposite wall for a moment before shaking herself, visibly refusing to settle into a funk. She smiled at Kurt and reached for her backpack, pulling out two DVDs and holding them up. "Now that you're clean and fed...Streisand or Minnelli?"

"Liza in a heartbeat," Kurt said eagerly. "God, you sure know how to cheer a guy up."

Rachel snorted as she put the tray of food on the floor and popped the movie into Kurt's DVD player. "Not all guys," she said, grinning. "Just you. I know Mercedes is your fag hag, but I need some practice if I'm going to Broadway someday."

Kurt laughed loudly. "It's true that musical theater exists and survives because of gay men." He resettled his pillows and scooted over in the bed. "Will you stay?" He paused. "I don't really want to be alone right now."

"Of course." Rachel smiled at him, and Kurt knew exactly how she'd won over three serious studs despite her abrasive personality. She absolutely shone.

Kurt moved a little more, letting her curl up next to him on his big bed. The TV was situated so he had to look past her to watch it, but he didn't mind. She lay quietly on her belly next to him, her arms under her head. The feel of another body in his bed was completely alien, but Kurt liked it. Blaine would have been his first choice for bedmate, but he wasn't complaining. Rachel was warm, her body just barely grazing his under the blankets, and she smelled nice. Under normal circumstances, he suspected she would likely sing along with the musical numbers as they watched the movie, but tonight she did not. She didn't ask any questions, either - she just offered the companionship Kurt desperately needed. He had told the truth when he said he didn't want to be alone.

As the plot of the movie began to unfold, Kurt took a deep breath. She'd said he could tell her what had happened on his time, or even not at all. But he found with each passing moment that he _wanted_ to tell her. He wanted someone else to know, someone besides himself, and he could never tell his father or Carole. Even with the drugs still swimming in his system, he knew that.

"I was doing my annual medicine cabinet cleaning and purging," he said finally, speaking slowly and quietly. He kept his eyes on the screen. Rachel jumped a little when he started to talk, but she did not turn around to look at him, for which he was thankful. He didn't want to see the questions in her eyes. He just wanted to tell the story his way. "Throwing away old products, reorganizing what was there. You know."

"Yes," Rachel said softly. "Organization is the key to any fully functional space."

Of course she'd agree. They were very much alike in many ways, and yet also so very different. "Finn came in wearing just a towel." Kurt's face heated as he remembered just how the tall boy had looked in almost nothing. Despite their close association both on the football team and now as stepbrothers, he had never seen Finn wearing so little before. He'd gotten over his infatuation with Finn quite a while ago, but when he'd come jogging into Kurt's bathroom wearing nothing but a towel, Kurt had stared. "He was out of soap and wanted to borrow some. I had the window in the bathroom open to air the place out in case I spilled anything smelly, and the wind slammed the door with both of us in there." Kurt swallowed. That sound had been the beginning of this terrible nightmare. "Carole and Dad came up to see what all the banging was about. They knocked on the door and were demanding to know what the problem was. Finn freaked out."

Rachel still said nothing, but Kurt could tell by the tense set of her shoulders that she was listening to him and not Liza Minnelli.

"I guess...I guess he's still not completely comfortable with the whole gay thing," Kurt said slowly, trying to justify his stepbrother's actions in his own mind. "I guess he thought our parents would catch him in my bathroom with me, in only a towel, and think the worst. It kind of sent him over the edge."

It was only then that Rachel spoke. "You don't have to make excuses for him," she said quietly, still not turning to look at him. "Whatever he did, it's not your job to justify it."

"I know," Kurt whispered. "I'm not doing it for him. I'm doing it for me."

"For you?"

"I just want to know...to be able to think...that he didn't mean it. That it was an accident. It would be so much easier if he came and told me so himself, if he apologized. But I can't ask him to do that." He took a shaky breath, not surprised when a tear dropped onto his cheek. He hadn't cried yet - not really. The sorrow was coming, though; there was no way it couldn't after all that had happened.

"Why not?" Rachel asked softly, turning his attention back to the conversation.

Kurt shifted nervously, and his legs came in contact with Rachel's. She twined her smooth calves with his, their ankles resting gently against one another. It was a supportive touch, like squeezing his hand, and Kurt had to smile even through the threatened tears. "If I have to ask," he whispered, "I'll never know if the apology is real."

"Oh, Kurt." She turned over then, movie forgotten, and slipped her arms around him.

The dam burst, and Kurt willingly let himself be drawn into her arms as he cried. He breathed in, wishing for the subtle scent of Blaine's cologne but finding only the vaguely fruity smell of Rachel's shampoo. Whatever, he told himself, wrapping his arms around her small frame and pulling her close. She was here and offering comfort, and he wasn't going to shove it aside simply because she wasn't his first choice. He was more grateful than he could say, and he tucked his head against her shoulder, hiding in the long sweep of her soft hair. The sobs came fiercely, tearing through his body as he experienced again the feelings of betrayal. It wasn't fair; it just wasn't fair. Yes, Finn had probably panicked. No, he probably didn't mean to do what he'd done. But the fact remained that he'd done it. And Carole and Kurt's own father had been no help or comfort at all.

"He grabbed the bottles of medicine on my counter and shoved them down my throat," Kurt finally was able to admit as he cried. "Ipecac. Nyquil. I don't really know what all."

"So that's why everything in there was strewn all over the floor," Rachel murmured. Her voice buzzed against Kurt's cheek, pressed close to her throat. It was strangely intimate to both hear and feel the words simultaneously. She raised a hand from his back and stroked through his hair gently.

The touch of her hand running soothingly through his hair comforted Kurt immensely, and he found his tears slowly stopping. It felt amazingly good as she eased her short, blunt nails gently along his scalp. He shivered with the sensation and held her tighter.

"You started throwing up?" she asked quietly, her hand continuing to move in his hair.

"Immediately," Kurt said, sighing a little. Rachel shifted her position slightly, leaning away from him, and when she returned a moment later she pressed a small pack of tissues into his hand. "Bless you," he murmured, and he rolled a small distance away so he could blow his nose and wipe his eyes. As soon as he could breathe without dripping again, he returned to the comfort of Rachel's arms. She was soft and warm, and he needed that right now. Her hand returned to his hair, and Kurt felt his body slowly relaxing. Now that he had cried himself out, he felt a lot better. He still didn't want to be left alone, and he was more tired than he could ever remember being before. His head still pounded against his skull and his nose was stuffy from crying, but despite that, he felt like a weight had lifted from his shoulders. He had grieved for what Finn had done. Now he could finish telling Rachel, hopefully get some sleep, and in the morning he could move on and decide what to do about it all.

"Was that what Finn wanted, do you think?"

"I don't know what he was thinking," Kurt replied. He listened to the sound of Liza singing in the background. The familiar music was almost as soothing as Rachel's hand in his hair, the hard plane of her breastbone against his cheek. He could feel her breasts pressed against him, but he didn't really care and she wasn't complaining. "I assume he meant to make me sick as an excuse for why he was in there dressed the way he was. Like he had heard me and come running or something."

"I guess it sort of makes sense," Rachel said quietly.

"I don't really remember much more. Everyone was there, and I was puking all over the place. There were lights and noise - I heard voices but couldn't really tell the words. I think at some point my dad said they should leave me alone to sleep it off. The next thing I remember is you, touching my leg."

Rachel squeezed him gently. "I didn't know if you were awake," she said, "and I didn't want to disturb you. So I just sat with you for a while before I went to clean up."

"I can't thank you enough, Rachel."

"Shh. What are friends for, right?"

Kurt felt the pressure of a kiss in his hair, and he smiled. His mother used to do that. Rachel felt nothing like his mom, but he was soothed anyway. "Will you stay, Rachel?"

"As long as you want." Rachel squeezed him again. "We missed a lot of the movie," she said. "You want to go back?"

"Please."

Rachel settled to her back in his bed and let Kurt curl up next to her, his head pillowed on her sternum, her near arm still firm around him. It felt good to be so close to another human being. Kurt smiled softly as she clicked back through several scenes until she found the spot where they'd stopped paying attention. Rachel turned the volume down a little and reached around to snap on his bedside lamp as the sun went down and the room turned dark. Kurt watched the familiar figure of Minnelli; he knew this movie so well that he could recite every line along with it. It was comforting, and he closed his eyes to rest.

* * *

><p>Hours later, Rachel blinked herself awake as the door opened. She squinted in the warm golden lamplight, the features of Burt Hummel coming into view. Surprise and then suspicion played over his blunt, honest face.<p>

The cobwebs of sleep quickly faded from her mind as she remembered where she was and why. She tightened her arm around the sleeping bulk of Kurt, still curled up on her chest, and raised her other hand to her mouth to warn his father to be quiet.

"I have to say, this isn't the son I expected to find with a girl in his bed," Burt said finally, though he kept his voice low. Kurt didn't even shift, and his breathing remained even.

"We're both fully clothed." Rachel schooled her expression, trying not to scowl. She wanted to be furious at Kurt's father, though she knew he hadn't really done anything wrong. He was guilty of assumptions, of not asking questions where they needed to be asked. Nothing more.

"Your parents know where you are?"

Rachel nodded. She'd expected Burt to tell her she needed to go home, but he wasn't. "Finn called me," she offered. Kurt moved slightly at the sound of her voice, and she raised her hand to stroke his hair softly. He mumbled something in his sleep and subsided again, breathing deeply.

"He's a good brother to Kurt."

Rachel hoped her face didn't give anything away. She wasn't so inclined to agree with Burt at the moment.

Burt looked around, shifting nervously in the doorway. Rachel was willing to bet he'd never even dreamed he'd be put in this position, and she could see the humor in the situation even though she didn't feel it. Her concern for Kurt overrode anything else she might think. "I see you two ate," Burt said finally. "Are you the one who cleaned up in here, too?"

Rachel nodded again.

"You didn't have to do that."

"Kurt needed help." She didn't trust herself to say anything more. She didn't want to cause any sort of tension in this family, didn't want to make things worse for Kurt than they already were.

It was clear Burt felt the accusation anyway, and his face tightened. Rachel knew that he was a loving father and struggled every day, doing his best to understand Kurt and provide what his son needed. But he had failed in this instance, and he knew it.

"Right," the older man said finally. He glanced around the room at anything except Rachel with Kurt curled close against her. "You want a ride home?"

"Kurt asked me not to leave," Rachel said, doing her best to keep her voice low and even. "I promised I'd stay with him. Besides, I don't think I can move without waking him up."

Burt took a breath to argue, but before he could say anything Carole stepped up beside him. "Just leave it alone for now, honey," she said softly. She looked at Rachel, her eyes soft. "I think Kurt could use a friend right now."

"Your glee club director will have my ass if you all start spreading whatever Kurt has," Burt protested.

"It's not catching." Rachel said as fiercely as she could manage in a whisper.

"It's all right, honey," Carole said. She tugged on her husband's arm. "It's late, Burt. We'll figure this out in the morning."

He nodded and finally left, closing the door behind him. Rachel heaved a sigh of relief and hugged Kurt a little closer. After all that had happened, she felt intensely protective of him. She was ready to rip Finn a new one the next time she saw him, and she didn't want to hear his excuses or explanations. None of what had happened was Kurt's fault at all. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time and had become the victim of homophobia, no matter how well-meaning Finn usually was.

Kurt shifted in her arms again, rubbing his head against her shoulder. She didn't know what Burt might have said if he knew his son was only wearing boxer shorts and Rachel's skirt had ridden up to her hips as they lay together in bed. By all rights this shouldn't be comfortable - Kurt had seen more of her body than anyone else ever had. But she really didn't care. She was comfortable with him in a way she couldn't quite define. He wasn't interested in her romantically or sexually, and she wasn't interested in him, so that automatic tension didn't exist. He was a male, too, which meant that she wasn't always in competition with him like she was with the other girls. She was comfortable in her body around him, not wishing to be thinner or prettier to match Quinn or Santana. All she wanted was to be his friend. And if he needed a friend to hold him, she wouldn't begrudge him that. She was sure Kurt wished his Dalton crush were here instead of her, but it didn't bother her. If Blaine didn't wake up and see what was right under his nose, it was his loss. Kurt would survive and find someone perfect for him eventually.

Until then, he had friends.

* * *

><p><em>AN: I'm toying with the idea of posting the second chapter to this, though I haven't decided yet if that's just really taking things too far. Hope you enjoyed, and I'm always happy to hear what people think, good or bad. Mwah!_

_Oh, one last thing. Yes, I know Rachel is vegan, or says she is, or something like that. I already said something about that in an A/N to a previous story._


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